


Lavender

by catmanu



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst in the first bit fluff in the second, Bathtubs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Zenit St. Petersburg, a bit of gender weirdness yes, sardar's glorious happy trail content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: Everyone's crushed after Zenit's terrible run of games, but Sardar's worried for Artem in particular.  Luckily, he thinks of something that will definitely cheer him up.
Relationships: Sardar Azmoun/Artem Dzyuba
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else heartbroken after today's match versus Rubin? My growing Football Sorcery Skills suspected Rubin would win in extra time, but my feelings are still hurt. So, you know, it's fix-it time.
> 
> Accurate-sounding POVs? Don't know her!

"ARGENTINA, COLOMBIA, VENEZUELA, BRASILEIRA, POR FAVOR!"

Sardar smiles at the sound of his Tyoma making a fool of himself celebrating their win against--

And then Sardar wakes up. Or maybe he wasn't dreaming. Maybe he was just having a fantasy. The kind that you want to be real so badly.

And the sounds and memories of their summertime happiness vanish, leaving him with something cold in his chest.

He looks at his seat-mate. Tyoma's legs are spread out, his thigh touching Sardar's like he's been doing every time he's gotten a chance to since their Rostov days, but it's not the on-purpose _I want you so bad and I'll have you when I want_ kind of thigh-touch that Sardar knows so well. It's just happening because his legs are so long.

"Hey, Tyoma." He dances his fingers over Tyoma's just for a second so that nobody will see. Even on a dark plane full of their depressed and sleeping teammates, he has to be careful. Everywhere except when they're completely alone, he has to be careful. He's so used to it. He's _relieved_ by how careful he knows how to be. But tonight, he has that feeling that he hates--of wishing he were Tyoma's pretty girlfriend so they could kiss deeply in public, so he could comfort Tyoma _right now_ instead of having to wait.

But he's not Tyoma's pretty girlfriend, he's Sardar Azmoun, who he normally likes being, so he just tap tap taps his fingers on Tyoma's hand, fingers, wrist.

Tyoma's got his face pressed up against the cold window glass. It's a long, dark flight from Kazan to home.

"Hey. Hey, Tyoma."

"What." 

It's not a question. So he's acting like he doesn't care. Well, whatever. Sardar has learned not to care when Tyoma acts like he doesn't care.

"I am thinking of buying a new horse. My father's going to check him out tomorrow. Do you want to see some pictures?"

Tyoma sighs.

"He is beautiful. His coat is so brown and shiny. Very healthy. Maybe I'll name him after myself. How about... _Iranian Zlatan_ for a horse name?"

"No."

"No, what? You don't like that name? Fuck you, it's a great name." Sardar squeezes Tyoma's wrist to make sure Tyoma knows he's joking.

"No, I don't want to see. Shut up."

Sardar swallows the rest of his words. He has learned not to care. He has learned not to care.

The more he keeps his fingertips on Tyoma's wrist, the more he feels Tyoma's pain flowing into him. _Oh, Tyoma, oh, Tyoma...My Tyoma._

He hates this. He _hates_ this. He should be drunk off his ass on this plane, celebrating. Bothering Lunev, getting teased by Dejan and giving it right back to him. Is there anyone to talk to? Well, he _could_ go talk to Dejan. Dejan is, well, he's _something_ , alright. But he never sulks.

Leave Tyoma, though? When he is like this? He would never.

So Sardar sits on the plane in the dark touching the wrist of the man he loves. They're seated by the wing, and there's a red light out there that's flashing steadily, lighting up Tyoma's face. There's a tear rolling down his cheek, through his prickly-soft beard. Sardar sees it, lit up in red, every time the light blinks.

He rubs his leg against Tyoma's and closes his eyes.

When he closes his eyes his hair is long again and there's perfume on his wrists. He puts on lipstick carefully and kisses Tyoma with those lips. He has a ring on his finger, a big, fancy ring, an engagement ring. He runs it over Tyoma's face until Tyoma smiles.

*

But Sardar doesn't like to feel sorry for himself too much. He does a little, sometimes, but he always snaps himself out of it. And this is a good skill to have when you're in charge of looking after sweet Tyoma's heart.

"Hey," he whispers to Tyoma as they get off the plane in St. Petersburg. "Do you have something special to do tonight or tomorrow morning?"

"Nope."

"Well, then. I can't let you go home like this, Tyoma. I haven't been able to...to make you feel better the right way."

Tyoma nods. His perfect, soft lips are shaking just a bit. He bites them. Oh, he is so brave here in public. So strong. Sardar needs him in his arms so he can stop being brave and strong and just be...whatever he wants.

"I am going to book us a room for tonight, okay?"

"Not at the Four Seasons," Tyoma says. "And not at the--"

"You fucking book it then if you have so many _opinions_ ," Sardar says, and he elbows Tyoma hard, enough to make him stumble on those long legs.

"I told you I don't like it when you curse with that pretty mouth," Tyoma says, elbowing Sardar right back. 

"Oh, fuck you, Dzyuba." Sardar elbows him again, harder, and Dejan is rolling his eyes at them since he knows what they're up to, and Sardar knows the night will go as he wants it to.

*

They check into their room. Tyoma looks to see if they've included any snacks in any of the cabinets. Sardar looks around the bathroom. The tub is huge--big enough for two average-sized people, or one Tyoma. The hotel has provided a little bottle of lavender bath oil. Sardar takes the cap off and sniffs and instantly feels calmer and happier. This is perfect. He can't wait. 

He hears some doors banging shut from the other room. "Aw, _man._ They don't have any fucking snacks in here."

Sardar stands in the doorway of the bathroom. Tyoma's already taken his shirt off, and Sardar takes a moment to appreciate his solid chest, his soft abs. "Calm down, baby. Come here."

"What do you want now? I'm trying to feed myself." But Tyoma's smiling at him. Not his normal smile, but closer than it's been to normal since he missed the penalty earlier.

"Come here, baby. You're not listening to Sardar? _Your_ Sardar?" And he pouts at Tyoma till Tyoma comes over and leans down so Sardar can take his face in his hands. Now that they're alone he's happy to be himself. It feels good and right to be a man kissing another man. "I like it when you curse with that pretty mouth."

"I'm stressed and I'm pissed and I'm _hungry_." Tyoma has to take his tongue out of Sardar's mouth to say all of this. "I'm allowed to curse."

"Let me help you with that." Sardar runs his fingers across the soft skin right above the waistband of Tyoma's pants. "Take off your clothes and get into the tub."

"Ooh, nice. Think I will," Tyoma says. He shoves his pants down and hops around the bathroom trying to kick them all the way off. Sardar giggles, but he stops once Tyoma's standing there fully naked. Just staring at his commanding, beautiful body makes Sardar need to drop down onto his knees even though the bathroom floor is cold and suck Tyoma's gorgeous cock as far down his throat as he can take it (which is...far). To suck Tyoma off and play with his balls, his hole, all of it until Tyoma is moaning and whining and saying he's too close. Oh--but--

instead he goes to turn on the hot water in the tub. He plugs the drain and pours in more bath oil than is recommended. And last, he takes off his own shirt. "Get in."

"I don't think you can fit in that thing with me unless you sit on my dick, baby," Tyoma says. 

Sardar rolls his eyes. "Get in. And close your eyes."

Tyoma gets in and stretches out as much as he can. He closes his eyes. As much as Sardar misses staring into that wide, beautiful blue, that blue that makes him forget how beautiful the Caspian Sea was on his vacations there as a kid because not even the _sea_ can compare, he wants to see Tyoma relaxed, peaceful. Happy, just fucking happy like he deserves.

Sardar adjusts the cross around Tyoma's neck so it doesn't dip into the water and squirts even more bath oil into the tub. He gets a washcloth and then forgets what he's supposed to be doing as he watches Tyoma's cock bob softly in the water.

"Baby," he says, his mouth watering. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks, my love," Tyoma sighs. "Without you, I'd be so fucked."

"Shhhh," Sardar says. He dips the washcloth into the water and begins rubbing it over Tyoma's chest, making sure to circle it more times than necessary over his sensitive nipples. 

"God, that feels good," Tyoma chokes out. "What are you using?"

"Just a washcloth, baby."

"Well, don't stop." Tyoma moans as Sardar moves the washcloth down to the faint lines between his abs; he uses his other hand to rub at Tyoma's stiff neck in a clumsy way. "God, Sardar, don't fucking stop, please. I need this."

"Baby, I won't stop." Sardar kisses his beard and rubs his lips against Tyoma's cheek. Tyoma shoots his hand out of the tub and begins to stroke what he's said is one of his favorite parts of Sardar--the dark line of hair that grows down from his belly button. _Cause I don't really have that,_ he'd said once. _It's exciting that you do._

"Oh," Sardar says. This makes him breathe harder. He's feeling a little distracted. "Baby, you have to stop, I am trying to take care of you...Just relax, please. Just take a deep breath. Doesn't it smell nice?"

"And how can I relax when you're so far away from me?"

Anyone else would make fun of Tyoma for saying this, but Sardar understands him and his beautiful heart. He _is_ too far away from Tyoma. There has been too much distance between them all day. Even on the pitch, against Rubin, it was too hard to link up. How could he have forgotten this?

So he pulls off his pants and climbs into the tub. His knees bang against the sides as he drapes himself on top of Tyoma like a blanket. He really, really doesn't fit, but they both moan as their chests touch, and then their lips meet and their cocks brush together and oh. _Oh, Tyoma._

"Whatever you put in here--"

"It's lavender."

"Lavender, well, it smells better now that you're in here too."

"Tyoma..." Sardar settles in on top of him, the warm water splashing around them. "Baby, I love you."

"Hmm. You know, if we could do this after every game...maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad when we lose."

"Mmmm."

"As long as I have you..." Tyoma sounds like he's falling asleep, but Sardar feels his cock getting hard underneath the water. "Then it ends up okay."

His long, strong fingers wind through Sardar's hair. "And you were fucking great today, my Sardar. They can call themselves _Rubin Kazan_ all they want. _You're_ the fucking ruby on the pitch. My beautiful."

Sardar's grinning crazily with his face against Tyoma's. When Tyoma praises him he forgets everything else.

"We'll do better next time," Tyoma says. "I promise, for you, Sardar, I'll do better next time."

"You better, baby." And Sardar begins to rock back and forth on top of Tyoma, feeling the slide of their cocks together under the water. Soon he's going to _really_ forget anything else except for Tyoma, for Tyoma, for daddy, for daddy's cock, his big strong arms and loving moans, so he better say the rest now while he still can think. "But even if you don't...we can still have this."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments would be очень хорошо 😍🙏💙💙


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